


But We Lost It

by akatsuki_tsukiyomi (Yumi25Nakashima)



Series: First Blush [29]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, Break Up, Chance Meetings, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Lost Love, Morning After, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Party, Past Relationship(s), Post-Break Up, Reader-Insert, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28547259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yumi25Nakashima/pseuds/akatsuki_tsukiyomi
Summary: Old flames, a martyr, good friends, whispered words.
Relationships: France (Hetalia)/Reader
Series: First Blush [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089500
Kudos: 4





	But We Lost It

**Author's Note:**

> (F/N) - Reader's First Name  
> (L/N) - Reader's Last Name  
> Francis Bonnefoy - Francis's official human name  
> Arthur Kirkland - England's official human name  
> Wang Yao - China's official human name  
> Feliciano Vargas - North Italy's official human name  
> Ludwig - Germany's official human name
> 
> I figured everyone's favourite Frenchman deserves a chapter.  
> The featured song is P!nk's 'But We Lost It'.

_They say everything is temporary_  
  
  


" _Mademoiselle_ , you look ravishing," he had whispered into the skin of her hand. He rasped at the 'r' of his words, enunciating his accent with the finesse of a noble. Pressing a feather-light kiss on her knuckles, his blue eyes stayed glued on hers. The warmth of his ungloved hands contrasted with her chilled skin, embraced by the bitter winter air.  
  
  


_Who the hell are they anyways_  
  
  


As he stood back to full height, she had to tilt her head up to properly look at him. His elegant blond tresses were pulled back and out of his face with a crimson ribbon. Shorter strands of hair framed his delicately masculine face. A smile pulled the corner of his lips upwards—coy or good-natured, she could not decide.  
  
  


_I wanna know where does love go to die_  
  
  


She slipped her hand out of his soft grasp, letting it fall to her side, tingling with the aftermath of his touch.

"Fancy seeing you in one of Arthur's parties," she had said, her voice mellow, her words only his to hear. A chuckle had left him at that comment. He shrugged and proceeded to put on the black gloves that he had discarded when he took her hand in his for a greeting.

"Perhaps it was my intuition that I'd meet you here."

A wry smile found its way on her face. "Perhaps."  
  
  


_Is it some sad empty castle in the skies?_  
  
  


"I hope you enjoy the party then, Mr Bonnefoy," she had said, turning away from him. His blue eyes lost their shimmer, but they went unnoticed by the woman taking her leave from his presence. Her retreating figure pulled a certain string inside him, a dull pain making his stomach drop. He tore himself away from her and towards the beautiful landscape of Aberdeen. The chilly night air finally embraced him and he shivered alone in the balcony.  
  
  


_Did we just shoot too high and spoil like wine?_  
  
  


\---  
  
  


"I," his lips captured hers in a rage, not bothering to continue his sentence. Her warmth, her softness, her beauty. She was a marble muse, a porcelain sculpture. For all to see but for none to touch. He relished in every second he could set fire to her skin with his lips and carve valleys with his fingertips.

A giggle bubbled from her lips, the sound like angels' song to his ears.

"Slow down," she whispered into his hair, his hands fisted into the skirt of her gown loosened their grip.  
  
  


_You walked by and it's like our bodies never touch_  
  
  


"Mm, you bewitch me, _ma chère_ ," **my dear** he breathed.

"And you, me."  
  
  


_No love, you hold me close, but I don't feel much_  
  
  


"Have I ever told you, Francis Bonnefoy," her nimble fingers tugged at his crimson ribbon and it gently released his hair. "How you enthral me?"

He nuzzled into her neck, her dainty necklace—the necklace he had given her—brushing his skin with its icy surface.

"Perhaps." He mumbled absentmindedly, the palms of his hands idly running up and down her back, daring not to touch the bare skin of her shoulders.

His lips were busy kissing her neck, her jaw, her sensitive ears, her cheek. Her eyes remained closed as her hands ran through his soft hair.  
  
  


_I cry, maybe time isn't on our side_  
  
  


" _Mon amour_ ," **my love** she spoke softly. He pulled her closer. The dread was creeping upon him from the melancholy lacing the tone of her voice.

" _Non_ , hush, _ma chère_. Spare me the sadness." **No**  
  
  


_We had a thing but we lost it_  
  
  
  


A sigh left her lips and she pulled him up to look at her. His blue eyes were glazed over with a thin coat of tears, ready to spill. He looked so vulnerable, enveloping her with his strong arms, encasing her in his fragile spirit.

"You don't want me to spare you," she said, her gaze steadfast. He shook his head, his face coming closer to hers, their breaths mingling.

"I do," he firmly responded. His eyelids drooped to close and she followed, tilting her head to accommodate the awkward angle. At the softness of his lips against hers, she had dismissed her prior reasoning. It came from him that he did not want to hear of it, so she would not speak of it. The least she could do was appreciate and savour the moments of being in his presence. His scent overpowering her senses, embedding into her clothes and into her skin. For a day more he would stay with her through her clothes. For at least a day more she would have the luxury to recall being in his arms before it all together left her.  
  
  


_One more go, I kinda thought if we took it slow_

_It might be easier for us, yeah for us to know_  
  
  
  


\---  
  
  


Francis woke up to the sunlight glaring at him, let in by the large windows of the room. He groaned and turned away from the rude awakening. Rolling onto the other side of the bed to escape from the warm rays of the morning sun, sleep slowly released him.   
  
  


_I know we never been quite here before_

_I wish I knew it when we lost it_  
  
  


The large guest room of Arthur's Scottish manor was accommodating but it felt all the larger with no one by his side. Even her scent had left him. An exasperated sigh left the man as he rolled around in the soft pillows and velvet sheets.  
  
  


_You used to try to wake the beast in me_  
  
  


He managed to get out of bed several minutes later. Not bothering to don his regal, stone-studded coat from the night prior, he stumbled into the dining hall.

"Look who the cat dragged in," came Arthur's sarcasm, right on time. He waved his friend off and took a seat with a tired huff. From across him, Feliciano was devouring a hearty breakfast and chatting away to Ludwig. The German was quietly eating his breakfast, nodding once or twice to show his participation in the otherwise one-sided conversation.   
  
  


_There's still a very sleepy part of me inside_  
  
  


"Now, now, why the long face?" Arthur asked, his brow raised as he sipped his tea. Grumbling, Francis only sent a glare his way. Clearly, he had not woken on the right side of the bed.

"Cut it out-aru." Yao leaned back in his seat with a sympathetic, knowing look. "He's had a rough night as it is."

Clueless, Arthur looked from Yao's wise countenance to Francis' dismal appearance. "Pardon?"  
  
  


_I've been waiting to come alive_  
  
  


"Nothing you should," the dreary-aired blond was cut off by Feliciano. " _Furansu-nii-chan_ , where did your _dolcezza_ go?" **sweetheart**

"Who?" Ludwig asked, now being the clueless one in the conversation.

" _Dol_ —do you mean to say the lovely lady I chaperoned last night?" Arthur asked hastily. Feliciano nodded in agreement and pointed a finger in Francis's direction. "I saw them together at the end of the night."  
  
  


_You stared into my eyes and turned to stone_  
  
  


Francis refused to face Arthur's scrutinizing glower. "You did _what_ , frog face?"

" _D'accord_. I did. What does that have to do with you, _Anglettere_? You look ready to pounce on me." **Okay. England** He grumbled. The said man twitched. He sighed, setting his teacup down and putting his head in his hands.

"You're making your own misery," he lamented gravely. Francis seemed ready to sink to the floor. Of all people to lecture him about mistakes and right choices, it _had_ to be Arthur of all people. Across the table, Feliciano tugged at Ludwig's sleeve, silently asking to be enlightened of the situation. Equally unaware of the happenings, he only shrugged, much to the former's dismay. Looking past him, Feliciano poked Yao just as he was sipping his morning tea.  
  
  


_And now I'm living all alone_

_In these four walls_  
  
  
  


Seeing his curious gaze, Yao set down his drink and put on the air of a knowing teacher.

"She's his star-crossed lover-aru." He said. "When we first met, they had already broken up. But I did get to meet her once. She's a real beauty-aru."

"If they had broken up, then how," Ludwig's question was finished by the Chinese man. "How did we meet, you ask?"

Ludwig and Feliciano nodded in unison. This gruelling tale of romance and heartbreak would be an interesting story to tell Kiku upon their arrival.

"They met again," Yao continued, reminiscing the first time he had seen Francis be on the receiving end of being love-struck.   
  
  


_There's a stranger, he's lying in my bed_

_Kinda blank like the thoughts living in my head_  
  
  


"They looked like the perfect couple-aru. Both beautiful, both confident, both... well, _perfect_." Arthur took a bite of his perfectly poached egg, enjoying the storytelling. Francis continued moping, not touching the golden-crusted croissant in front of him and his deliciously steaming cup of coffee.

"If they were perfect,"

"Why did they go their separate ways?" Yao finished for the Italian. A furious nod was his response.  
  
  


_This is the one that I felt that I knew so well_

_I think we had it but we lost it_  
  
  
  


"Well, that's the thing." He shrugged and took a long sip of his tea. "They were too perfect, I guess. Some people simply don't belong-aru."

"And there you have it," Arthur said, wiping his lip with his napkin elegantly. "The story of a beautiful maiden and an infatuated oaf."  
  
  


_Still the girl that you chased all around the world_  
  
  


A deafening silence followed. Only the light clattering of silverware on ceramic plates was heard.  
  
  


_I haven't changed, just replaced all the chains with pearls_  
  
  


"It seems you are on good terms to still be speaking, _ja_?" **yes** Ludwig asked, unable to contain his curiosity.  
  
  


_I want the same things we did back then_  
  
  


"'Good terms' he says," Arthur only shook his head.  
  
  


_I know we had it but we lost it_  
  
  


"They're a moth drawn to a flame-aru. Both the moth and the flame at the same time. _Duì niú tán qín_." **You're preaching to deaf ears**  
  
  


_The bone breaks_  
  
  


A heavy sigh left Francis as he stood, the heavy dining chair dragging noisily across the floor, startling his companions.

"Some great help you've all been," he muttered bitterly before taking his leave.  
  
  


_It grows back stronger_  
  
  


\---  
  
  


**_The past (May 30)_ **  
  
  


Francis leant on the sill of the open window. The lights of his beautiful city never ceased to captivate him, especially on nights that sleep decides to forsake him.

He glanced into the darkness of the small room. Her cramped Paris apartment felt like home. The large, extravagant city experience was only ever completed with a tiny living space. She lay on the bed, fast asleep and on her front as she hugged a pillow close. Her bare back, smooth and warm to the touch, was inviting him back but he knew she'd be too tired to listen to his late-night ramblings should he awaken her from her slumber.  
  
  


_You walked by, and it's like our bodies never touch_  
  
  


He took another puff of his cigarette. Arthur had advised him against smoking in the presence of a lady, but coming from a man who could not help himself when faced with a prime cigar, he decided to heed those words with a grain of salt. Besides, she never complained.  
  
  


_No love, you hold me close, but I don't feel much_  
  
  


Francis looked back out the window. From where her apartment stood, he could see one of the parks. In the middle of the greenery shrouded in darkness by the night was a statue. In her honour, a marble beauty was erected—his beautiful, courageous heroine.

"The Maiden of Orléans." He breathed, smoke mixing with the white puff of his warm breath.  
  
  


_I cry, maybe time isn't on our side_  
  
  


"You say her name in your sleep," came her soft voice, frightening him from his sweet reverie.

" _Ma chère,_ " "It's tonight isn't it?"

She was lain on her back, her limbs spread, without a care in the world. She stared up at the ceiling, the mattress underneath her creaking with her weight.   
  
  


_We had a thing but we lost it_  
  
  


"I thought you just woke up earlier to grab a drink," she continued, sitting up and leaning against the pillows. "It slipped my mind, I guess. That it was tonight."

He had woken earlier that night from a nightmare. The same one that haunts him yearly. Fire, betrayal, a martyr dying for her country. He was fortunate enough to have stolen a few hours of sleep before he was wide awake, long into the night.

" _Oui_ ," **yes** he quietly replied. He could hear the sadness in her voice, unable to provide the comfort he yearned to ease his mind and calm his heart. He could see the despondency in her slumped shoulders, dejected at having been caught at such an awkward time, rendered useless. She could do little to nothing at this time of the year. Nothing but Jean D'Arc would occupy Francis's mind. No one but the paragon of loyalty and courage.  
  
  


_One more go, I kinda thought if we took it slow_  
  
  


"Don't forget to shut the windows tight when you're done," she mumbled, getting comfortable once again, entangling herself in her soft sheets and turning her back to him once more. "They tend to fly back open, especially in this bitter wind."

He hummed in response, looking away from her.

In the tiny bedroom of that small apartment, they seemed to be farther apart than ever.  
  
  


_It might be easier for us, yeah for us to know_  
  
  


\---  
  
  


**Present-day**  
  
  


Francis shut the bedroom door behind him with another sigh. He seemed to only be occupied with that action the entirety of the morning. The empty room greeted him once more, warm yet icy cold at the same time, just like when he woke up to no one in his bed.

On the oak bedside table, he noticed a small piece of paper. A receipt from who-knows-where with familiar penmanship on its back. He picked it up, grabbing his reading glasses as well and putting them on.  
  
  


_I know we never been quite here before_  
  
  


" ** _It was a pleasure seeing you again. I'm afraid that's all my heart can bear. Until we meet again, mon amour. Don't forget me_** _._ "  
  
  


He smiled. "I wouldn't dream of it," he whispered to no one in the empty room.  
  
  


_I wish I knew it when we lost it_  
  
  


\---  
  
  


**_The past_ **  
  
  


"Francis, I," she started but was stopped by his blue eyes. Pleading with her.

"Accept it. _S'il vous plait_. This is the last I will ask of you, _ma belle ange_." **Please, my beautiful angel**

She hesitated but nodded nonetheless. As Francis stepped behind her to gently put the necklace he had offered around her neck, she spoke.

" _Pardonne moi mon amour_. But I cannot keep staying with someone who loves another." **Forgive me** He froze at her words before clasping the jewellery closed and laying his hands tenderly on her shoulders.

"'Ou know how much I love 'ou."

She choked on her words as tears spilt from her eyes. "And I know how much you love her. And everyone else."

She turned in his arms and held his face in her hands kindly. " _Mon amour_ , I am only human. I don't think I can ever live my days trying to compete with the whole population, or with a dead woman, for that matter."

"But you do not have to compete," "I know."

Her sad eyes mirrored his.

"I am only human." She repeated. "I cannot help it. I will resent you for it. I don't want to resent you for something you have no control over. It's only right that we end this now. While I still have the heart to love you, to leave you, to cry for you."

He placed his hands on top of hers, closing his eyes and feeling her.

" _Je connais. D'accord, ma chère._ " **I know**  
  
  


_Yeah, I wish I knew it when we lost it_  
  
  


" _Je t'aime."_ **I love you** He whispered.  
  
  


\---  
  
  


**Present-day**  
  
  


In the quietness of the room, Francis could hear the beating of his heart. At that moment, he thought he heard her voice, uttering the words she had never said to him when they parted as he read the last words she had scribbled onto the back of the receipt she had left behind.

_**"Je t'aime tellement."** _ **I love you too**

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally published in Wattpad on Jun 29, 2020.


End file.
